


Cut & Run (Flipped Perspective )

by Blue_My_Mind



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Serial Killers, flipped perspective, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_My_Mind/pseuds/Blue_My_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cut & Run is either about two FBI agents hunting a serial killer ... or it's about a serial killer hunting two FBI agents. Meet Tim Henninger, serial killer, wannabe assassin, and determined to wipe Zane Garret and Ty Grady off the face of the earth, failing spectacularly</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut & Run (Flipped Perspective )

**Author's Note:**

> It's more of a finger practice inspired by a tumblr post, but I kind of found the idea interesting, so I post it here :)  
> Enjoy!

Henninger’s alternate characterization and the basic idea I took from [this tumblr post](http://allthosenicecolors.tumblr.com/post/134923511216/cutrunelias-sanchez) (I asked permission before using it ).

 

 

 

Tim Henninger was not sure how to feel about driving right now.

On the one hand, it gave him a perfect excuse to remain silent and think. On the other hand, having the man he wanted to kill on the backseat gave him the urge to push down the gas pedal and steer the car against the next wall. Maybe this particular killing spree was a bit too fun, it gave him weird ideas.

Taking a breath, he flexed his fingers against the steering wheel, trying to keep his a serene expression as he checked his mark-possibly-marks in the rearview mirror.

He had doubted they were the right ones when he’d first seen them. He had expected a still young and fit military man, and a hardened undercover killer. What he’d gotten were a spent-looking man who seemed to secretly wish for a bullet ending his misery, and a stiff, overly-proper business poster boy.

They had had the right names, though, and now, looking closer, Henninger understood he’d judged too quickly.

From up close, Grady was handsome and he could imagine this man could be quite charming if he aimed to be. Right now, though, this charisma was concealed by exhaustion, anger and pain – he’ just lost a partner, Henninger remembered form the file, and the man he’d shot just a few weeks ago had been an old friend of his. A buddy from military times. Out for revenge, then … but he looked so done Henninger almost doubted he could work up the energy for revenge.

Still, he would not underestimate him. He had underestimated the other agents, and they had made him. It had been sheer luck that Grady hadn’t responded to the call at once, otherwise, he’d probably be dead or in a cell right now.

He hadn’t picked up, though, so by the time Grady had seen he’d missed a call, this fucker Sanchez had already been done chocking on his own blood, and Henninger could go on as planned.

He took this as a good omen. Fate favored him on this one. Yes, this assignment would definitely end well.

Schooling his features into the harmless mask of the slightly naïve agent, Henninger looked away from Grady and turned towards the man who actually mattered, his mark: Zane Garret.

Garret was … more and less than he had imagined. His aura, the way he held himself, how he dressed and talked, he seemed so stiff that he probably had a whole armada of sticks up his ass and rode a desk all day. On the other hand, he was huge, the well-tailored suit doing little to hide the very impressive muscle mass. He was also packing heavily, and was skilled in hiding it: If Henninger hadn’t known about them, he would have missed the knives at his wrists. But mostly, it was his expression. His face was a mask betraying nothing, his eyes cold and calculating. Killer eyes.

And on the other other hand, Henninger knew this man had problems – alcohol, self-esteem issues, lack of care, lack of empathy, unwillingness to trust – that would make him vulnerable.

He should not make big problems … but anyway, no underestimating this time.

To kill him, he couldn’t go into a physical fight. The difference in strength was too high. A shoot-out was another bad idea, he’d need to get him alone and after the death of their colleagues, they were apt to be on their toes. No, he needed to separate them. Weaken Garret, injure him so he wouldn’t pose much of a threat anymore. An accident maybe, a car hitting him at night, a computer blowing up when he was near.

As for Grady…

His employer had told him to kill Garret and keep Grady alive and ideally unharmed if he could manage, and he would go by that. If he couldn’t injure Grady so badly that they would stay apart, he would leave him alive, but if not, he had to go first.  
Listening to Grady grumping and bitching, a part of him hoped he would get to kill the bastard.

 

No two weeks later, Henninger realized that Fate obviously wasn’t favoring him.

Everything had seemed to be running perfectly, they were not suspecting him at all … but he just couldn’t seem to keep them down.

The first bomb had gone through, he knew it had. All right, maybe he could have injured Garret worse –he’d turned away just in time- but he knew the man’s back had looked like a pincushion, except with shards, plastic and metal in place of the needles. He should be sore, handicapped badly.

Just that he wasn’t. Either the jacket had done a great job protecting him, or this man didn’t feel pain the way normal people did. Another thing he would have to take into consideration.

Angry about the setback, he’d decided to take things up a notch, and be safe at the same time. He set a second bomb, this time under their car, rigging it so it would go up when one of them pressed the button to unlock the doors. It would probably not be enough to kill them, but enough to hurt, and, hopefully, to finally get the kind of reaction he wanted. Besides, in hospital, Garret would be pretty easy to kill.

After hearing the explosion, he ran down with the others, barely able to contain his glee, just to find Garret unharmed and on his feet, while the wrong man lay bleeding and half unconscious, and soon, both of them were out of his reach.

He’d fumed all day after he’d injured the wrong man. He’d tried to correct his mistake by hurting him even more, killing his little fucktoy in hope that he would leave and Garret would get a new partner. It might actually be to his advantage: If Grady had to leave, Garret would be alone for a few hours at least, More than enough time to kill him.

Instead, they both were gone now.

His employer had called a few days ago, telling him he’d found another possibility to get rid of Garret, and that he shouldn’t worry about his payment, he’d get it anyway for his troubles.

It wasn’t comforting. He had lost, failed, and, besides, this spree had been incredible fun. It was, by far, not the first time he’d sold his services and used his position in the FBI to accommodate well-paying people with the wish to see this or that old enemy dead. It also wasn’t his first time killing for fun, to see the rest of the machinery dance around the puzzle he’d given them.

But this was the first time that he’d run against walls every now and then. This game had felt great, the riddle hidden behind theses kills had felt true to him, and those two had been worthy opponents. Giving it up was frustrating as hell, it was making him angry and depressed at the same time.

He was all the happier when he heard that the employer’s secondary plan to kill Garret hadn’t worked out, and that he would be sent back.

Grinning like a fool, Henninger started planning.

 

This time, he would do it all different. Much more aggressive. He’d throw them a big “welcome back” party – The Telltale Heart sounded perfect – and then, he’d hunt them down mercilessly. No careful approaches, no getting himself in danger of being blown up. Maybe that thing with the car, he hadn’t done that for a while now, then shoot Garret when he retreated to lick his wounds.

Henninger also decided Grady would die, too. He remembered the four bullets necessary to stop Sanchez, his willingness to protect his partner, and he would not risk that again. Maybe, he’d even be made part of the game. Not Garret, Garret was a profane mark, but Grady was a perfect application to his collection.

Also, knowing about this man’s claustrophobia … the opportunity was too perfect to pass up on.

No, Grady had to die, buried alive, and he was already looking forward to it, to see the fear in the man’s eyes when he realized he’d never escape the chains or his tomb. And if he got a chance, he’d gloat, Lay out his partner’s fear and slow, panic-filled death to Garret before shooting him, just to see the horror on his face.

Oh yes, that was a fitting punishment for messing up his game and making him doubt himself, while at the same time, it would be honoring them.

Henninger had no doubt that this time, he would succeed, and he could not wait to see the dying expressions of both men. He was ready and set to go. From here on out, nothing could go wrong anymore, he was certain of that.

 

Henninger was flat on his back, and he couldn’t believe it.

He’d known about the knives, he’d known, he just hadn’t thought Garret was still capable of using them, battered as he was. He also couldn’t believe that he’d been distracted so easily. “I love him.” Even if that had been true, it shouldn’t have distracted him like that …

But it had, and now, his entire body was aching. Garret stood above him, the knife, the very one he’d twisted in Henninger’s shoulder before asking any questions, in hand. He could see the man only fuzzily, ever since the blow to the shot wound in his gut, he’d had black splotches dancing before his eyes.

No, not the man. The FBI hitman. He’d known, he had just … forgotten. Garret had seemed so predictable at first, then he’d seemed like a chameleon, constantly changing. Now, he could see the predator he’d been warned about coming through and suddenly, he didn’t want to die.

He tried, tried to convince him that killing him was no good idea. He barely heard what Garret answered, but the tone said nothing good. Henninger didn’t lose his hope, though, not until he looked up into the other man’s eyes.

Henninger could see his expression surprisingly clearly. The man’s face was hard, his eyes chips of black flint, and the corners of his mouth curled upwards just a bit. No, this was no FBI hitman, and also no predator. This man had a killer’s soul, unfeeling towards his victims and determined to the point of obsession. _Better than me_.

Weakly, faintly, Henninger began to realize that this was the end. In this man’s mind, he was already dead and his partner recovered. He was losing. No, he had lost

The gun’s muzzle was very big and very dark as the killer aimed it at his head, and the start of the bang as it went off was very loud. Henninger never heard the end of that sound.


End file.
